Truth
by NobleCaliber
Summary: For a moment, she's almost certain he won't say it. She's just about to give him an out, tell him it's okay, when he does. Those tears are suddenly happy; he seems to like the phrase so much he keeps saying it, so the happy tears keep falling.


A/N: Spoilers for the sneak peek. If you haven't seen it... Do that now. The Shules shipper in you might explode. In a _very_ good way.

So, the season starts in October. While I'm thrilled that we _finally_ at least have a month, I think I might die before then. Plus, other USA shows went on hiatus for less than three months but Psych still hasn't come back on. But that might be because of _Greedy _(The play Maggie and James were working on).

Also, I've watched the sneak peak a thousand and four times and I regret nothing.

/|\

For the moment, she had let it drop. She'd let her heart fall to her stomach, let a small smile play across her face, and then pushed it temporarily aside.

She'd blocked out the replay of the phrase long enough to finish her workday and what that usualy entailed. Catch the bad guy, babysit Shawn and Carlton, maybe have some Thai somewhere in between.

Now, she's reading the same line of her book over and over again because that voice just _will not _shut up.

"_You're just gonna have to deal with the fact that I love her."_

_"... The fact that I love her."_

_"I love her."_

Her sharp intake of breath causes Shawn to look over at her. "Book that good, Jules?"

She nods dumbly, even though she'd bet anything that he knows she hasn't turned the page in ten minutes.

He smiles at her and turns back to the telivision, thinking he's letting her resume her book.

She reads the line a few more times and glances at him.

"Shawn?" she asks, returning her eyes the page.

"Yes, Juliet?" He returns in his _look, we're a domestic couple _voice. Its the voice he uses when she calls him from the other room for dinner and he calls back, "_Coming, dear!" _as he makes his way to the kitchen.

She looks up at him without lifting her head. He hasn't broken his gaze from the TV, but she can tell he's listening. His head is slightly ccked in her direction and when she doesn't reply, he steals a sideways glance at her, raising a brow.

She does her best to sound casual and calm. "Did you mean it?" she asks in what she hopes is a level tone, pulling her legs out from beneath her on the couch and stretching them out so that her feet lay in his lap.

"Mean what?" he counters and she almost believes he really doesn't know what she's talking about. He traces the arc of her foot with one fingertip before lightly circling her heel with short nails, tickling her.

She jerks the foot and playfully digs her other heel into his thigh. "You know what, Shawn." She closes her book, holding the page with her index finger as she looks up.

He meets her eyes, dragging his fingers along the bottom of her toes. "Of course." He says as if it's obvious.

She wonders briefly if it is.

"Why would I lie?" He disregards the fact that he was hooked up to a heart monitor and, as she doubts he could beat it, Lassiter could have pegged it at a false statement.

She looks down into her lap, picking at a loose thread in her flannel pajama bottoms. "You lied about everything else," she says quietly.

"I lied about one thing." he says, a hair short of being defensive. "To keep from going to jail!"

"It was _still _a _lie_." She chews on the inside of her cheek, desperatly wanting him to make one of those stupid, smooth comments that makes it seem totaly right. When he doesn't right away, she almost pulls her feet back. After all, he's still tickling her mercilessly and all she really wants is for him to say it again.

"Never woulda met you," he says and there's that coy little smile he gives when he things he's out of the woods and she almost let's him.

She smiles a bit herself, "If I recall correctly, we weren't on the clock." she counters, refering to their meeting at the diner.

His fingers tease up her ancles and calves under the plaid pants (That she will admit she bought a size too large) and her feet jerk back gently. She slides her bookmark into place and let's the paperback fall to the floor.

"To-may-toe, ta-mat-oe," he shrugs, grabbing her by the ancles. "Of course I meant it," he pulls her towards him and she slides along the couch. He reels her in until she can't be any closer without sitting in his lap (He considers that), and drapes her legs over the arm of the couch.

His fingers start at her knees and crawl up, ghosting her thighs and hips before settling on her stomach as he flashes her a devious smile, drumming this nails lightly on the bottom segment of her ribcage as if in deep thought.

Before he gets the chance, she seizes he's wrists and wrenches them away as he grasps for her waist to prevent it.

She holds his hands in hers and looks him in the eye, blinking rapidly as she hopes she won't have to ask. She rolls her lips between her teeth and searches his face, waiting.

He manages to pry one hand free. Using it to hook around her waist, he pulls her onto his lap.

Her eys widen ever so slightly with expectation and she grasps his one hand like a lifeline.

He brings her hands, fisted around his own, to his chest and leans forward, holding her in place until he's centimeters away. Dropping a light kiss to her lips, he falls back, noticing the dissapointed look on her face as she thinks he won't say it.

She starts to look away, blinking even faster to ward off tears as she scolds herself for even bringing it up. She's about to give him an out when his palm is suddenly on her cheek instead of her back and she's turned back to face him.

She swallows thickly, not allowing her hopes to rise again. She looks at their hands, because she can't bring herself to look him in the eye.

"I love you, Juliet."

She looks up at him, the small smile on his face and the gleam in his eye, and the tears forming in her eyes are suddenly joyful insead of sad. As the first one streaks down her face, he repeats the phrase as if testing it out.

She launches forward, releasing his hand to plant her own on his face, and kisses him. When she pulls back, she leaves her forehead resting on his and their noses brushing until she almost thinks he' trying to tickle her again.

He must have decided he likes the way it sounds, because he whispers it once more for good measure. "I love you, Jules."

She ignores the suspicious tapping of his fingers on her sides.


End file.
